tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66206292273644140452018-03-05T10:40:44.345-08:00Jenny Reb's GemsThoughts and reflections of an ex-nun.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-32570125706881878192016-02-03T15:39:00.002-08:002016-02-03T15:39:21.150-08:00God's Way<span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">God's ways are not our ways, said the psalmist. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">After a difficult struggle with PTSD, Panic Disorder, and General Anxiety Disorder, my doctor decided it was time to ease off using one of my anti-anxiety meds. Unfortunately, one of the withdrawal symptoms of this particular drug is nightmares or vivid dreaming. Nightmares it was. And as much as I'd pray to not have nightmares, they continued as I decreased my medication. No supplement helped, either - Melatonin, Valerian -&nbsp;you name it. It was starting to get difficult for lack of sleep&nbsp;because I&nbsp;avoided going&nbsp;to bed to face those nightmares.&nbsp;As I wondered what particular saint to ask for intervention, having been praying to St. Dymphna for many years, St. Raphael, the Blessed Virgin, and St. Anthony, I was at a loss as to who to turn to for this particular problem. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: Times, &quot;Times New Roman&quot;, serif;">Oddly, though, God sent me an unlikely saint: St. Maximilian Kolbe. Not only is he the patron saint of prisoners but of drug addicts. And as this was a drug dependency related problem, I asked for his help. He was waiting for his cue in the wings, one might say, because he intervened immediately and I have had no nightmares or alarmingly vivid dreams from the first night I asked for his help. I sometimes think we overlook the root of the problem, having got caught up in all the effects. I'm definitely going to focus more on the cause of an issue from now on before I get caught up in the overwhelming storm. Like global warming.</span>Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-42301469901414665682015-12-21T12:43:00.002-08:002015-12-21T12:43:51.608-08:00Wake Up CallWell, this year hasn't gone smoothly. After leaving the call center to go back to caregiving in a home, I had to quit just after 2 months there for reporting a "valued" employee to DSHS for 2 accounts of neglect. Don't know how the investigation turned out, but I didn't stick around to be fired. Got a job a The Dollar Tree close by my old work as seasonal to finish out the rest of the year. I forgot how stressful retail seasonal was...<br /><br />Still dealing with major depression, but improvement has been made. Much to the alarm of a family member, when I get overwhelmed emotionally and or physically, I'll say out loud that "I could just quit." She spoke about her concern that I was running away from any problems that came up, but I laid down the bare facts for her. It was my coping mechanism. Instead of saying "I can always take my life" (as I used to think to myself when overwhelmed), I cope with stress by merely reminding myself that there is another way out, and another job waiting somewhere. "I can always quit" is a major improvement to "I can always kill myself." Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-62177972632785830792015-02-18T19:51:00.002-08:002015-02-18T19:51:23.444-08:00"Slender Man" is real! <br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">O Lord, hear the words of my prayer – let this message reach the right audience!<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear Readers,<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many of you have heard on the news about this Slender Man character/meme from a popular dark site called Creepy Pasta. Many people think it’s just a figment of imagination – but it’s not. It is a demon. One that I and my brother encountered about 18 years ago, before the web became a way of life. It haunted our house – in particular my brother’s room, for reasons we did not know or understand. It made its presence known by an aura of darkness and fear. We had more than one demon to deal with at times, but this one was always present, as if trying to scare us to death, sticking to the darkest corners. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We did not call it Slender Man in those days, though looking back it would have made sense to call it that. We called it the Slim One. At times, it would physically manifest itself to sight, which impressed itself strongly on my memory from the first moment. And if I had not seen it myself, I would not give credit to the “figment” of Slender Man.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are devout Catholics; we tried prayer, house blessings, blessed salt, St. Michael statue, crosses and crucifixes but it never stayed away long, like there was a bad penny under the carpet or something. We did not play with anything that would invite a demon or evil spirit, such as an Ouija board or Dungeons and Dragons. After many years of haunting, and only after much prayer and fasting (as our Lord Jesus said) did we drive it out: with the </span><a href="http://olrl.org/pray/greenscapular.shtml"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Green Scapular</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">. Each time, with a prayer and a push pin, I put them on every wall and corner of my brother’s room and it worked. The demon was gone, and I never knew where it had gone until I read the story of the </span><a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/storyline/slender-man-stabbing/slender-man-stabbing-suspect-stashed-drawings-mutilated-dolls-testimony-n307396"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Slender Man stabbing</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since then, I have looked upon many a demon – all Creepy Pasta characters – and I beg you to watch out for yourselves and your loved ones. The web is an electronic portal for these malignant spirits to use; some people are exposed accidently, and some are exposed by curiosity (and you know what’s said about that!). For years people argued about the “possible” link between violence and video games. Well, as a kid who grew up with classmates who were into that, I can testify that the link exists. And if you’ve chanced to read this article, don’t dismiss the vulnerability of a careless young mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-26873808844768921552014-08-22T08:50:00.000-07:002014-08-22T08:50:51.291-07:00Many Blessings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PfioNoXa5qI/U_Y-39xMkeI/AAAAAAAAAL0/FeEhWnV61bo/s1600/Photo08191726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_840376="null" cua="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PfioNoXa5qI/U_Y-39xMkeI/AAAAAAAAAL0/FeEhWnV61bo/s1600/Photo08191726.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>Our family has been blessed with twin baby girls, the newest members of my sister's family. Sophia and Sarah born at 31 weeks are doing well, as is their mom. They are not the only newest members of our family. I have sponsored two children, one from Peru and one from Ethiopia: Jimena and Mesekerem. As most blessings do, more responsibilities follow. My children are adopted, 2- and 4-legged. &nbsp; Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-76610567265038225002014-06-03T09:48:00.001-07:002014-06-03T09:48:12.195-07:00Solemn MandaBack in April, when I was worried I would lose my job, I made a manda to Our Lady of Guadalupe that not only should she save and keep my job for me but also obtain more hours for me that I would save up to make a pilgrimage to her shrine in Mexico City. By the beginning of May, 6 days after I began a 54-day rosary novena, she answered my prayer in full. My job is secure and I got more hours at work. Now I'm saving $20 a paycheck to go to Guadalupe, even if it will take 5 years to save enough money to go on a pilgrimage. To be honest, I wouldn't mind having a sponsor to get to Guadalupe. And as I don't fancy going alone, it will either be with an arranged pilgrimage party or with someone I know to go with me. At least it gives me time to brush up on my Spanish.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-12146889645432846132014-06-02T23:22:00.001-07:002014-06-02T23:22:36.408-07:00A Moment in TimeHello again! Almost a year since I last posted anything! So much has happened - graduating, getting work, keeping work... Oh, so much to tell! So many journal entries!<br /><br />Tonight, as I took the dogs out one last time for the night, I found myself gazing upon the mountain, highlighted with the last rays of sunset. As I gazed, I heard His voice - I heard Him calling to me. It was just a moment, but for that moment nothing else existed - nothing else around me mattered. "The mountains are calling, and I must go" was an expression used earlier this year for commercials on TV. But the mountain wasn't calling - God was. I kept going out even after sunset to hear His voice, but for naught. After everything, all this time and what has happened, I had thought we'd grown apart. But we never separated. I may have gone astray from my heart's true love, my very purpose of being like a lost sheep, but He calls to me. And nothing in this world sounds sweeter or more captivating than my Beloved's voice calling me to Him. Speak, Lord, I love to listen to Your voice. See Lord, here I am.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-6666914807466665072013-08-17T12:00:00.001-07:002013-08-17T12:10:58.939-07:00I Once Was Lost But Now I've Found...Yes, the lyrics to "Amazing Grace," with an obvious twist in the wording. You see, from June of 2005 when I made the decision to leave the convent, already suffering from PTSD, until this summer of 2013, my purpose in life seemed lost. Through those eight years of personal growth and much needed therapy, I regained focus on my vocation to serve by helping people - in general. Not being one with a lot of money, I held fundraisers of all sorts: rosaries for missions, toys for children in poverty, etc. Fortunately, with discernment and guidance through prayer, I found myself working again in the medical field. I recently received my&nbsp;Medical Receptionist certification and currently work with Scribes STAT implementing the new EPIC medical software at Peace Health in Bellingham, WA. But as we are all called to serve, and helping people anyway I can (even and especially when I give away my possessions to someone in need) is my life's focus, I still felt I needed a more specific&nbsp;purpose. <br /><br />Only this year has it come to light what God made good of my brokenness. My experience at the convent wasn't for naught - in fact, it became a great insight for those still in the convent as to bringing to light serious issues that needed to be addressed, and they were (as far as I know from correspondence with several contacts, including the Mother General of the order). Then, a year or two ago, God brought to light how my pain and suffering didn't just help the sisters I left behind. My recovery and personal/spiritual growth from the pain&nbsp;enabled me to help a dying man with Alzheimer's disease to make peace with his past because he went through a similar experience in the seminary. As much as he talked to his family, even though it progressed to the point that he could no longer&nbsp;recount the exact stories, the sentences and thoughts that came to mind that he shared with me opened a door. I was able to relate to him, to what he had gone through and suffered, in a way NO OTHER PERSON COULD HAVE. To be honest, I didn't connect those dots at the time, but after he died only a month and a half after I met him, God answered my prayer by connecting those dots for me. I was concerned about employment, and I was this man's assistant home care aide (his primary HCA was his wife, a retired Hospice RN). Why did God give me all these temporary jobs when my family and I needed&nbsp;a steady income?&nbsp;It was because God was working through me - I was His tool&nbsp;help people in ways not many other people could. <br /><br />Again, this has been made evident in the most recent happenings with a relative of mine suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder (aka&nbsp;Multiple Personality Disorder). Every pain, every emotion - I could relate to her and began to help her where everyone else around her could not even understand. It's the emotional trauma I'm referring to: the despair, the suicidal thoughts, the overwhelming feeling of fear and loneliness despite being with other people...&nbsp;The experience from&nbsp;my disorders&nbsp;became for me a tool to help her when no one else could relate.&nbsp;&nbsp;While others still&nbsp;consider mental illness a stigma, God turned&nbsp;my problems&nbsp;from stumbling blocks to stepping stones so I could make use of my suffering. "Now I rejoice in my sufferings for you, and I am completing in my flesh what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for His body, that is, the church." (Col. 1:24) If you would have asked me five years ago where I pictured myself, it wasn't doing this. This is God's work - it just happens. I leave myself open to the working of the Holy Spirit to help others anyway I can and this is what God is doing with me BECAUSE of&nbsp;all I've been through! Like&nbsp;any other human being, I cannot predict the future as to what will happen next, but I can testify that God DOES make good come out of evil. I never would have predicted this could've happened, the way I've been able to help other people the way I do. "<span class="Highlight">I</span> have been crucified with <span class="Highlight">Christ</span> and <span class="Highlight">I</span> <span class="Highlight">no</span> <span class="Highlight">longer</span> live, <span class="Highlight">but</span> <span class="Highlight">Christ</span> <span class="Highlight">lives</span> <span class="Highlight">in</span> <span class="Highlight">me</span>." (Gal. 2:20) What an awesome God we have, who takes care of us in every way to the smallest detail, even&nbsp;numbering the hairs on our heads! Open yourself to the Holy Spirit by giving God control of your life in everything, and watch the wonders He does for those He loves.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-43933377445067368582013-08-11T13:25:00.003-07:002013-08-11T13:25:42.045-07:00The Power of the Miraculous MedalI have been a member of the Association of the Miraculous Medal (AMM) for over a year now, but it wasn't until recently that I started wearing a miraculous medal. I had&nbsp;received two medals&nbsp;when I first joined the AMM as a perpetual member, but it wasn't until I joined the AMM Monthly Giving Club and received a sterling silver one when I began wearing it regularly. For over 7 years, I have suffered from PTSD, Panic Disorder, and depression. I could not explain - I could not put into words my suffering from the thoughts of despair and pain (even suicidal thoughts) that would plague my waking hours nearly everyday. I found support in prayers, my family, my therapist - but no matter what I tried to get rid of these thoughts or just push them aside away from any consideration the moment they came to me, they would keep coming back. <br />BUT...<br />When I began to wear the Miraculous Medal, blessed at the shrine of the AMM, that I began to notice the thoughts were gone - they no longer plagued me.&nbsp;As well as&nbsp;the absence of those thoughts, my whole being - mind, body, and soul - felt uplifted... For the first time in years, I felt like a normal person again. But even&nbsp;more than that: I felt the hope and love of God in and around me. No matter how bad the day had been, I had peace. Not peace in the mere absence of affliction, but a harmony by being in union with God. I had no idea such a blessing would be given to me, and I can't find the words to express my gratitude for it, but praised be Jesus and Mary! So many I know who suffer from similar afflictions I have sent medals and hope they make use of them. I continue to buy Miraculous medals to distribute freely.<br />AND!<br />I want those who read this to remember my testimony, for their sake or for the sake of a friend or family member who is suffering. Both the Association of the Miraculous Medal and the Central Association of the Miraculous Medal give a free medal to anyone who wishes to have one. Just go to their websites to sign up for one or to have one mailed to someone in need.<br /><br />AMM: <a href="http://www.amm.org/">http://www.amm.org/</a>&nbsp;(go to the bottom of the page and click the blue medal link)<br />CAMM: <a href="http://www.cammonline.org/index.php?/medal/free-miraculous-medal">http://www.cammonline.org/index.php?/medal/free-miraculous-medal</a><br /><br />Thank you for taking the time to read this and God bless you!Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-49417714763721274732013-05-28T15:15:00.000-07:002013-05-28T15:21:55.639-07:00Fighting the DarknessAs soon as I began to type this post, the electricity in my house went off and on like the blitz. I've written before on the power of the rosary as a sacramental, and now I wish to share with you the amazing power of the Miraculous Medal.&nbsp; <br />As the history of the medal is committed to my memory and easily found on the Internet, I'll bypass that and relate only what has come to light in my own life regarding the use of the Miraculous Medal. Ever since we owned this house from the time it was built about 16 years ago, we have had some areas within the house which we referred to as dark portals. You would feel very uncomfortable around these portals, and from these areas of darkness certain members of my family experienced supernatural encounters from 'the other side.' Many blessings, holy water, and blessed salt helped to purify these dark areas from our midst, but one room in particular was afflicted. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I tried something new.&nbsp;In the aforementioned room, I used push pins and placed blessed green scapulars around the room on the walls. There have been no uncomfortable feelings or indications of darkness since. But for some time, I have been fighting with a dark presence in my room that comes and goes. For&nbsp;a while&nbsp;I experienced relief by placing a green scapular on the side table closest to its usual appearance. But it came back, and feeling lost for all things tried - holy water, blessed salt, holy oil, an Agnus Dei, saint relics, etc. - I knew I had to get it out of my room but the question of how remained. Here enters the Miraculous Medal.<br />I have been a member of the Association of the Miraculous Medal for almost a year now, and recently received my regular newsletter from the AMM about members' stories of the miracles of the Miraculous Medal. I read all kinds of things in the newsletter, but the most moving story was of how one woman was cured very recently with a Miraculous Medal. Although I always had one such medal&nbsp;handy, I&nbsp;hadn't worn one until recently when my metabolic pruritis miraculously subsided. After a year of intense affliction,&nbsp;I could wear my religious medals again around my neck. I noticed that when I wore the little Miraculous medal I had, the darkness shifted away from me if I approached it. After praying, I was giving to understand that&nbsp;this darkness in my room was the demon that afflicted me mentally for almost a decade, and it could no longer afflict me from inside as I now wore the medal.&nbsp;However,&nbsp;that didn't prevent it from trying. Since going into my room at evening time or night was becoming an ordeal, I prayed for help and heard a gentle, peaceful voice tell me to put a blessed Miraculous Medal on my desk. I wondered if it would indeed rid me forever of the demonic darkness as other sacramentals had not worked, but I was determined to try. I found one my mother had kept and placed it on the desk in determined faith. Indeed, it worked! I've not had any problems since; the room is as peaceful as a lovely summer's day. <br />A friend of mine who is more active than myself in Catholic causes repeatedly has told me the story of how he got a 'New Age' shop to be closed down a little border town of British Columbia, Canada. He was very outspoken against the false religion this shop encouraged and therefore was not welcome around that particular shopping area. But when the sidewalk was being redone and the new concrete was being poured, he had elderly friends that he gave blessed Miraculous Medals to which they dropped into the areas to be cemented and into the cement itself while reciting the rosary. After the new sidewalk was in, that shop closed within a month for lack of business. <br />These old traditions we have, the old sacramentals of the Miraculous Medal, pictures of the Sacred Heart, scapulars -&nbsp;there are&nbsp;many who think them 'outdated' or just plain unappealing. But wonders will happen if you open your heart to try&nbsp;using sacramentals&nbsp;out of love for God in order to grow closer to Him. Just when you think&nbsp;"that old thing"&nbsp;was a periodic religious fad now&nbsp;replaced by newer devotions like the Divine Mercy chaplet,&nbsp;you're in for&nbsp;a major&nbsp;news update. The news of an amazing miracle from&nbsp;"some old devotion"&nbsp;will&nbsp;cause you to reassess your opinion&nbsp;of such matters, after the words&nbsp;"I didn't know those still worked!" ejaculate from your mouth.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-77044514905023023492013-04-27T15:21:00.000-07:002013-04-27T23:19:34.763-07:00Putting on the Armor of GodIt's been a long time since the rites of my investiture as a novice, but some things keep coming back to mind that I'd like to share with&nbsp;you: the symbolism of holy garb. You can read the Bible verse about the armor of God here: <a href="http://www.acts17-11.com/armor.html">http://www.acts17-11.com/armor.html</a>. But while even though experience has taught me that "the habit does not make the nun," there is still the silent testimony to the Gospel in her appearance. While I no longer wear the habit, I do observe specific private devotions. <br /><br />For instance, in the investiture of a novice, each piece of the habit&nbsp;is symbolically significant in regards to the aforementioned Bible verse (see link). Depending on the order, 'the belt of truth' is a symbol of the virtuous practice of chastity or of all of the vows the nuns take. They silently renew them when they put the belts on every day. The helmet of salvation is the veil - perhaps a bit of a stretch to a lay person, but by a nun wearing a veil, she acknowledges her sharing in the salvific suffering of Christ's body, the Church. The shield of faith, the shoes of the Gospel of peace, and the sword of the Spirit take on different representations depending on the religious order, but more or less along the lines of prayer and the practice of virtues. The breastplate of righteousness depends on the religious order. If the order requires it's professed members to only wear a cross or crucifix, that would be the breastplate. However, if the order requires a full habit with scapular and crucifix like mine did, the scapular would be the breastplate and the cross/crucifix would be the shield of faith. But as it has been a long time, the symbolism&nbsp;of the scapular and cross/crucifix meanings could be reversed.<br /><br />Why am I posting this? Well, just recently - last Sunday it was - while at Mass I heard God speaking to me to wear the&nbsp;cord of St. Philomena in order to preserve my chastity. And so when I get up in the morning and put it on, I say the required prayer and put it on. It's a simple little prayer, and important to me as I am what you might call a dedicated (but not consecrated) virgin. It goes as follows: "St. Philomena, pray for me to obtain purity of mind and heart which leads to the perfect love of God." And so I have one aspect of religious decorum left, not counting my daily rosary and many chaplets, or the Little Office of the Virgin Mary. If you would like more information, I would recommend this website: <a href="http://www.philomena.it/st-philomena-waist-cord-and-scapular-pack-detail">http://www.philomena.it/st-philomena-waist-cord-and-scapular-pack-detail</a>.<br /><br />Why decide to share this with you when I've put my convent days behind me? Perhaps it was the woman in the local Christian store I encountered yesterday who vocalized her disdain for Catholics, not realizing that what she was looking at, an ICTHUS bumper sticker. The ICTHUS&nbsp;was a symbol of the early Christian faith was long established before any church schisms occurred. It saddens me to know how judgemental people are within the Christian faith, no matter what denomination. Perhaps, like my Aunt Sandy and cousin Keal, she had a very bad encounter of people who were professed Catholics. Truth be told, when she saw the decade rosary on my wrist, she went to another part of the store and I really had no idea what to say to her or approach her about her dislike for Catholics or the practice of the Catholic faith. I know the best thing I can do is pray - and do what I love:&nbsp; teaching people about history. Not just U.S. History which I majored in in university but Christian history as well, especially our early roots and what we have in common. For example, many years ago I had dinner at a friend's house with her family. While I consented to join hands in prayer before the meal (they were Baptists), I made the sign of the cross when we finished. The stepmother asked me why I did that, why Catholics do that? At the time, I could not articulate an answer beyond "that was what I was taught." But did you know making the sign of the cross&nbsp;comes from early Christian <span style="color: black;">practice, an idea stemmed&nbsp;from&nbsp;the New Testament? St. Paul said "We proclaim Christ crucified" and stated "May I never boast except in the cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ<span sb_id="ms__id19061" style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times;"><span sb_id="ms__id19062">." As Christians, we bear witness to Christ by&nbsp;acknowledging our faith in a simple but profound gesture. We profess Christianity by admitting&nbsp;we are weak and need a Savior, and that we are saved through Christ crucified and risen. That is what the cross stands for in Christian doctrine. So, as Christians, go forth and preach Christ crucified, and if necessary, use words (St. Francis of Assisi).</span></span></span>Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-23274329864574400182013-04-25T21:51:00.000-07:002013-04-25T21:51:45.268-07:00Pondering....Well, sales in March were ok; things went much better in April. I gave away three items to my parish's "Hidden Treasures" Fundraiser - things that were old stock. I don't know why, but I have this need to have two full pages of items at all times, so when I get a sale, I quickly try to produce something to fill the gap. It's just a hobby - so I'm told.<br />Things have been very VERY stressful lately: mom had major sinus surgery and contracted a virus while recovering, dad contract job expires in July and we're all wondering where and if the next one will come, Will's health is still off and on... I'm finishing up a 54 day novena of the rosary for the good health and welfare of my family, yet it seems our fates reflect the fluctuation of the stock market - you never know how one day will begin or how it will end. <br />I know we're in God's hands. I'm trying to pace myself to not let the anxiety get to me, but I'm doing a poor job of it. Heaven help us! Does anyone know the answer to the age-old question "Can I save me from myself?" Jesus, help me to not worry about tomorrow or today - just help me get through it!<br /><br />Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-49995266625217303072013-03-09T11:17:00.001-08:002013-03-09T11:22:40.966-08:00Perspective & ReflectionAfter my last therapy session for Easter PTSD with Colleen (my therapist), I was inspired once again to write a book about my experiences - but not about the convent years. A book about how I went about recovering from losing that which I held more dear than my life's breath. I've spent time reflecting, perhaps unnecessarily breast-beating myself about my own inadequacies, on my true state of wretchedness in being unworthy to be Christ's bride... I came to the realization, as all saints have, that all are unworthy and wretched. I entered a "discommunity" - a dysfunctional one of broken women struggling who were with their own problems. It was I who had presumed, that when God called me to serve, that He wanted me there my whole life. But instead, I was a sacrificial victim only for a time - God knew how much I could handle. He made me a missionary to them instead of pagan lands. I know, as He has very evidently demonstrated, that He has plans for me, for my whole life, outside the convent or cloister.<br />I used to see things in black and white...I've changed a lot and there's always room for growth. I asked my darling Granny to write me 'encouragement letters' during Lent, and she has done. A few days ago, she sent me a clipping from&nbsp;her parish bulletin. I wish to share it with you:<br /><br /><u><strong>A Lenten Prayer: How to Fast by Lisa Terneus</strong></u><br /><br />Fast from judging others; feast on the Christ dwelling within them<br />Fast from emphasis on differences; feast on the unity of life.<br />Fast from apparent darkness; feast on the reality of light.<br />Fast from words that pollute; feast on phrases that purify.<br />Fast from discontent; feast on gratitude.<br />Fast from anger; feast on patience.<br />Fast from pessimism; feast on optimism.<br />Fast from worry; feast on trust.<br />Fast from complaining; feast on appreciation.<br />Fast from negatives; feast on affirmatives.<br />Fast from unrelenting pressures; feast on unceasing prayer.<br />Fast from hostility; feast on nonviolence.<br />Fast from bitterness; feast on forgiveness.<br />Fast from self-concern; feast on compassion for others.<br />Fast from personal anxiety; feast on eternal truth.<br />Fast from discouragement; feast on hope.<br />Fast from facts that depress; feast on truths that uplift.<br />Fast from lethargy; feast on enthusiasm.<br />Fast from suspicion; feast on truth.<br />Fast from thoughts that weaken; feast on promises that inspire.<br />Fast from idle gossip; feast on purposeful silence.<br /><br />Gentle God, during this season of fasting and feasting, gift us with Your Presence, so we can be gifts to others in carrying out your work. <br />-Amen.<br /><br />Wherever you are, Lisa Terneus, thank you for sharing this inspiring prayer that brings us to reflect&nbsp;face to face with the Truth!Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-10916158260292505172013-02-26T09:36:00.000-08:002013-02-26T12:18:49.261-08:00Morning RamblingsAlmost done with Winter Quarter at Bellingham Technical College (BTC), thank goodness! For the first time in days, I woke up to feed the dogs on time this morning. I said good morning to Annabelle, my African violet. Yes, I talk to my plant. I love that little violet - those fuzzy leaves... I used to be on the fence about tree hugging, but I can safely say I'm just nutty and sentimental. I used to have names for all my airplants, but when I'd lose one, or another would have pups (lol, that's what they call baby tillandsia plants) I would lose track of what names I had for them. I finally got my betta, an iridescent yellow/blue Delta betta I named Rainbow Flutterby, to eat dried bloodworms. At first, I just called him Flutterby after Fluttershy on MLP Series 6, but I wanted his name&nbsp;to reflect tribute to his iridescence so I added Rainbow. Took weeks to name that fish. No original names of mine seemed to fit him. Got another teddy bear in an after-Valentine's Day sale: white with pink nose, ears - named him Luvs but sometimes call him Minky because he's so soft. I need to vacuum today and get the piled up recycle outside to the&nbsp;bins, but I'm moving slow this morning.<br /><br />I can honestly say that this Lent has had the life changing impact I hoped it would. It's also left me with a lot of questions with no answers. The more I read St. Faustina's Diary of Divine Mercy, the more I wonder about how I lost my vocation to be a nun. God's grace is infinite, and an experience&nbsp;such as St. Faustina's does show how much God loves us and wants to give us graces - that we can overcome any trials with Him. So what went wrong with my religious life? I was young - too young; not enough social experience or spiritual guidance to know what to do in the situations I found myself facing at the convent. I've forgiven many times over the ones who hurt me, and have prayed they'd forgive me&nbsp;even though I don't hear from any of them anymore. I can't change what happened, and for the life of me after what I went through, I do not want to go through that again. I'd rather be single and lonely than be a nun/religious sister again. I have no ardor, no all-consuming love&nbsp;for Jesus to do that again. Yes, it's selfish but I was burned bad, and once burned/bitten, twice shy.&nbsp;My family and I have been watching "Foyle's War," and watching the soldiers come home with PTSD really shed light on the sacrifices and trials my family went through when I came home in the state I was in...but I had nowhere else to go. <br /><br />I was told, and I have related this several times, by a friend of mine who is a mystic - a saint only time will discover - that God revealed to Him after much prayer for my healing that I did great good for the order and those nuns,&nbsp;and my being there was a blessing for them. I wanted that - I loved them like family, even if I was treated&nbsp;worse than&nbsp;crap at times. I still love them. Honestly, I think I did leave my heart in San Diego. I wonder about going back sometimes, if only for love of them to do what I can to help by sacrificing my life for their well-being (spiritual and physical). For all my wondering though, I know I am not a welcome candidate or a viable one, having Panic Disorder. The one thing I wonder about most is did I do right by me? I was a fool to rush in to university studies, getting a bachelor's in US History. History fascinates me, but the degree&nbsp;is no good in this economy. I got it all on grants. Now, as I look back, I could have used that grant money for the real career studies I'm taking at BTC. But I just couldn't face the PTSD at that time. I had some close calls, and I needed something to distract me that I could focus on to dull the heart-shattering pain I lived with everyday. So now I have several thousands in federal loans to repay, a therapist for all her good intentions is hesitant to help me until she gets paid, a brother I don't know anymore, another sibling&nbsp;who calls the kettle black, a godmother who has disowned me, and...never mind. For all the issues we have with each other, I love them all very much.&nbsp;The one thing I&nbsp;hope in&nbsp;is one truly selfless friend I have outside my family and parents who love me with all their being. For me, that is enough to get through life on when you add a filial relationship with God to it.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-80201973309963585922013-02-22T11:44:00.000-08:002013-02-22T11:52:12.001-08:00Religion On the Radio....I had the radio on while I was driving to a doctor's appointment yesterday, and one station I tuned into had a guy talking about religion. Well, what he thought religion was, anyway. He said some study had been done recently where people of different faiths had participated in a sociology experiment of personal interaction. He said that when the other person did not know the faith of the person they were paired with, the majority of people in the study tended to be more reserved when it came to responding to requests for help and generosity in general. The flip side of the study, where the people paired up were allowed to know what faith the other person was/believed/practiced, showed that when the people knew that the person they interacted with was of the same faith they were, they were more generous/likely to be generous and responsive to that person's needs or circumstances. He went on to comment, "Isn't&nbsp;this the opposite of what religion is supposed to be?"<br /><br />Traditionally, religion by definition is the service and worship of a deity or spirit. But when it comes to the practice of religion there is quite often a discrepancy, and I can understand what this man on the radio was trying to say.&nbsp;In&nbsp;his talk, religion is not distinguished from devotion to a religious faith on a personal level&nbsp;and the wider applied social practice of religious beliefs. It's the old argument of works without faith, and simultaneously works without love. For Christians, God is Love, and so then Love is our faith, and true to this man's point, a person's religious beliefs, practices, and attitudes should be properly reflected in social interaction without regard to another person's background or beliefs. But, this is true only in so far as Christianity is concerned. <br /><br />Now I may get called on that statement, as other faiths may in doctrine express a similar practice of charity to some degree, but I cannot speak for people of other faiths. I have&nbsp;not seen the integrated expression of faith&nbsp;to the extent that 'they'll know we are Christians by our love' (as the old hymn says)&nbsp;from Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Sikhs,&nbsp;etc. However, I personally know&nbsp;people of other faiths who would put most&nbsp;so-called Christians to shame in their care and concern of a stranger. It's embarrassing but necessary to get called on the carpet about practicing what we preach.&nbsp;I thought about writing my parish priest about this, but with Easter and First Communion and Confirmation all coming up so soon, I know he's busy and overwhelmed.&nbsp;All I'm trying to say is that while one person professes their faith, without corresponding demonstration of that faith in attitude and practice, they are a liar and will (in my religious belief) stand before God and answer for it when there time comes. Thank God, however, for the practice of Divine Mercy.<br /><br />As St. Paul said, Christ's death&nbsp;for the sins of the many, of the whole human race, was nothing less than an act of God because who would die innocently&nbsp;in the place of&nbsp;a guilty person? Granted it is conceivable that a person might die for a righteous man as Scripture states, but would you lay down your life for a criminal? I would. <br /><br />You see, it is my religious belief that if&nbsp;I was in a situation where I could push a person who had wronged me grievously out of the way of an oncoming bus in time to save their life but risk losing mine, I must do so. For my Catholic faith requires me to lay down my life in that situation&nbsp;as Christ Jesus commanded us to love our enemies and do good to those who hate us. Knowing God would look with mercy on me for such an act and that my soul would not be lost, it is better for me to die than the other person who may not be in a state of grace. This is a person from whom God wishes repentance and love, and by laying down my life, I Love, with a capital L. That person has been spared, given time as God&nbsp;desires quite&nbsp;clearly in Scripture,&nbsp;to turn aside from evil ways and come back to Him with all their heart. The same goes for facing an attacker with a knife or gun. We have lots of guns, but only in the defense of another person's life for whom I was responsible (say my nephews, a friend, a neighbor, a school-age child), would I even consider using a weapon in defense. One,&nbsp;because I am responsible for my brothers and sisters who are defenseless, and two, I know not what state their own&nbsp;souls are in. Truly, I say 'consider' because I know that by using a gun or another weapon, I risk killing the&nbsp;offender even though my intention would be to merely disable them from doing any harm. But to take up and carry and a gun "Harry" style ultimately boils down to mere self-preservation, which is not&nbsp;in accordance with my faith. Even in self-defense, by whipping out a handgun if and when provoked and using it I may have allowed the devil to take that person's soul to hell. And no feeling or&nbsp;emotion justifies rendering judgement that the person 'deserved' to die,&nbsp;or it was 'better' that they die. Think about it - long and hard. That, Charlie Brown, is what Divine Mercy is all about.<br /><br />Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-52020502164319140622013-02-03T16:47:00.003-08:002013-02-03T16:49:57.000-08:00The Truth Can Set You FreeIt is through this Winter Quarter at school I am learning more than ever the practice of the virtues of my faith. About two weeks ago, when my dad was helping me with an assignment for my online computer class that I was struggling with, his advice on dealing with the difficulties was candid. By candid, I mean honest and open. Without criticism, he pointed out that my instructor was challenging me and not putting me down in her comments about my work. It was he that pointed out that I put up defensive barriers under criticism or feeling criticized, or in anything I view as conflictual.<br /><br />The first few years after I came home from the convent, 7.5 years ago, I was under the illusion that I was truly humble. Well, humility may have been there, but with PTSD I could not and did not recognize that my reactions and behavior sprang from traumatic shock as I tried with great difficulty to readjust to my new life. Others in my family have pointed out the impact my coming home in such a state had on them. Until recently in dealing with a cousin's personal and family problems I did not grasp or understand the deep impact it really had on them. When I realized how much I affected them in my mannerisms, what I said or didn't say, and how my behavior upset them at times causing flares of frustration, anger, and pain&nbsp;just as I experienced as I was trying&nbsp;to help my cousin deal with her own problems... It was so overwhelming to feel I imposed so much on people who were there for me and promised their assistance how and whenever I needed it. I had tried to limit 'imposing' on their kindness, but in retrospect, I realized just how far people could tolerate out-of-control anxiety on a constant basis. When I learned the truth firsthand, I realized within me was the seed of humility, but the compost pile of garbage from my past piled on top of it had hindered its growth. After all those years of 'service' to come home with nothing but emotional baggage - and then to realize all those years of service were so flawed in practice, it was a wonder that any good came of them at all. And I realize that only God could take something like that and turn it into&nbsp;good when you place it in His hands.<br /><br />As I have been pondering what to give up or sacrifice for Lent, it has been a spiritual journey of insight since I began thinking about it a month ago. Lent begins early this year, in the middle of February. By the end of this past week, I thought giving up Facebook this year (again) would be good, as I desired to offer to God all spare time I wasted on frivolous online activities. Then it occurred to me that I spend as much time on YouTube, and it would be just as beneficial to give that up as well. As I prayed about it more and more and focused on trying to do what God wants rather than what is convenient for me, a thought came to me today about Divine Mercy. I had tried in the past to read the book "Divne Mercy in my Soul" by St. Faustina, but was unable to due to PTSD - I could not get past the convent&nbsp;life within the book let alone in my own psyche. But recent events transpired that my dad lent me his copy, telling me that much consolation was to be found in it. And so I began to read bits of it, non-sequentially and with great hesitation. But true enough, I found the consolation I had sought. In prayer I was made to understand that in undertaking the sacrifices of giving up my online leisure activities, I would undertake the study of Divine Mercy and the practice of it towards my fellow human beings. This meant not only a change in daily activities and regimen, but a whole change in my way of thinking and behavior patterns. For by myself, this is impossible - but with God's grace and an open and contrite heart, it is entirely possible. To practice Divine Mercy would mean to learn and practice humility, true obedience to God, and pure Christian love and compassion. Up to this point, I had masked the practice of these virtues with naivety, passive-aggressive behavior, and empathy.<br /><br />Even as I wait for Lent to begin by the calendar of the Church, I am reading a little more of St. Faustina's diary. It's one thing to hear the coined phrase that 'psychologically we all wear masks' - it's another thing entirely to not only realize personally how and when we do so&nbsp;but to take off that mask and see what's really underneath. And yes, to make the step of not throwing that mask back on because we are frightened by what we see but&nbsp;to&nbsp;keep it off to watch the change we want to made in ourselves... That is a big step indeed, spiritually, emotionally, and psychologically. I want people to see God in me and that can only happen if I open myself up to&nbsp;the truth of who and what I am and do. By embracing the truth, I hope in the Lord to be set free of my false self and illusions, and in doing so to&nbsp;become a truer&nbsp;image of God.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-19997881754119627002013-02-01T23:56:00.002-08:002013-02-26T08:03:24.147-08:00February 2013February is often remember for the past: Black History month, President's Day, birthdays...and some other significant holidays like Groundhog's Day and Valentine's Day. I'm sentimental about Valentine's Day; not quite a romantic, but it means more to me than it ever did in all the years of my life. It's one thing to grow up giving out cards in class to every peer in my class, especially when I detested them - finding the appropriate thing to say was never easy. It's another thing to be grown up now and not have a special sweetheart to appreciate the day all the more. True love, pure love...bliss and happiness. At least for me I can still celebrate it somewhat because February is the anniversary day that I got my scottie Giacomo in 2005. He's six years old - middle aged now, and I find myself wanting to spend ever more time with him because I don't know how long God will let me have him. As a devoted dog lover and avid supporter of rescue groups, everyday pictures of malnourished dogs, abused and neglected dogs makes me wonder about the state of our society on its most primal level. I sent a card of sympathy to former President George W. Bush on the loss of his scottie, Barney. As I read through poems of pet loss, the reality that I would be there someday began to disconcert me. I have put out some personal decorations for Valentine's Day that suit my taste - mostly pinks. Ask me today whether I'd rather snuggle with a teddy bear or my dog, I more and more finding myself looking for my little snookie-wookums (Momo - the dog). It won't be lonely Valentine's Day - albeit the first day of Lent after Ash Wednesday. I'll have my scotty dog to snuggle even without flowers, cards, or chocolates. And I am eternally grateful to God for bringing Momo into my life.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-24189586728775592122013-01-17T00:42:00.002-08:002013-01-17T09:12:31.148-08:00Celebrate A Day Each MonthSince this year has started out so much better for me than last year, I look for any occasion to rejoice in God's grace and love. I'm not talking about partying as in drinking or tail-gating, but praising God for all the blessings He gives, both great and small. The ordinary miracles in our lives, like the sun rising every morning, azure skies, friends...all of these are worth celebrating. In the convent, we praised God with prayers known as the Office of the Hours seven times a day. I have my own routine now, after being out for seven and a half years. I got to thinking of the blessings that each patron saint of mine obtains for me. And so I will start with the Infant Jesus of Prague.<br /><br />It is not so much the actual statue but the devotion that drew me closer to Him while I was just 17. The original statue is miraculous, but despite all the jeweled robes I do not find it attractive.&nbsp;The real inspiration&nbsp;was the visions and inner locutions of a certain Carmelite monk who rescued the statue (gifted to them by a princess) after the monastery was raided and sacked. I can't remember his name, but you can easily look it up. He was very devoted to the Infant Jesus who assumed our nature to make us adopted children of God. Many times it is said with great gratitude that 'the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.' The poor monk, on recovering the statue from a pile of rubble, saw that the hands of the statue were broken off. He appealed to his superior to get the statue repaired but there were too many other repairs that needed to be made. So he prayed to the Infant Jesus and heard an inner&nbsp;voice reply "The more you honor Me, the more I will honor you." So the monk prayed to the Infant to provide the money since there was no earthly recourse. Mysterious donations of large sums of money began to appear by the statue in the chapel, and finally a sculptor was commissioned to restore the hands of the Infant. After that, miracles of healing, conversions, and solutions to impossible problems began occurring so much that the Catholic Church sanctioned the Infant Jesus of Prague&nbsp;as a patron of&nbsp;the Carmelite Order. And His powers are not limited to them alone.<br /><br />Such persistence, even doggedness, to promote devotion&nbsp;by one monk&nbsp;for the Infant of Prague gained the monastery a great many blessings, both spiritual and temporal. From the monastery, the devotion spread throughout the order and so throughout the world. When He said 'the more you honor Me, the more I will honor you,' He meant it. Despite a lot of bad memories from the convent, that was one thing they never were able to deprive me of, this devotion which gained for me increasingly greater confidence in God's Almighty power. And everyday I pray a prayer, chaplet, written, or heart whispering, to the Infant to continue to provide for me and my family financially and economically. And I have learned that the amount of devotion showed reflects&nbsp;very much&nbsp;in the blessings bestowed. Whether it is money&nbsp;with which to pay the bills or Divine Intervention that keeps a roof over our heads and our cars running, the Infant Jesus of Prague always comes through. You have only to ask, and it will be given unto you.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-23655018228613399052013-01-15T13:56:00.000-08:002013-01-15T13:59:08.456-08:00Patron SaintsWhen I was just 13 going on 14, we had moved to Washington state from North Dakota. We decided to choose to go to church in Canada in a little border town just 15 minutes from where we lived. When we were settled in and I went to CCD/Sunday School, I came to find out that the diocese of Vancouver, B.C. Canada confirms their CCD students at the end of my school year which was 7th grade. I had six months to prepare and choose a patron saint. I really didn't have much time to consider all options, but I've heard my fellow Catholics say that you don't pick the saint - they pick you. Well, that seemed to be the case with me, for while I was going through books on saints, I came across Bl. Kateri Tekakwitha. She was Native American, a little-known and unusual saint back then for me. My family has deep Chiricahua heritage, as well as influence of Navajo, Hopi, and Lakota Sioux cultures from where we had previously lived and from tribal-registered friends. So I chose St. Kateri because of that book that fell into my hands.<br /><br />I kept close to her for the rest of my teenage years in prayer and spirituality and even was allowed the privilege to assume her name for my religious name when I became a Carmelite nun. A year after my confirmation, she appeared to me in a dream - a dream that despite trying to awake from I remained in to receive a message. We went through various social settings I was familiar with together, and found myself in a canoe, paddling around and occasionally encountering groups of people (cliques, really). Though I tried to greet them, they ignored me. Several times this happened and St. Kateri turned to me, opening her mouth as if to say something but something stopped her. It was not until returned to the beginning spot where I first encountered her in the dream and we disembarked from the canoe that she did speak. She said "I will be with you always." And so the dream ended. I kept close to her as a religious, but after I developed PTSD from the dysfunctional convent I was in and later&nbsp;left after five and a half years I did my best to&nbsp;forget&nbsp;my association with her name or devotion. So many times I was asked why I chose Kateri as my religious name since I 'wasn't a Native American'. I tried to explain the spiritual bond but it never sank&nbsp;through those nuns' thick skulls.&nbsp;After everything that had happened at the convent&nbsp;and as I tried to recover, I kept&nbsp;trying to believe&nbsp;that allowing her in my life was more of an interest...something stronger than a whim, but not truly a bond. I repeated over and over "Sr. Kateri Marie is dead" to repress/bypass the associated trauma. But we did have a spiritual bond, even if over the past nine years I haven't been as committed as I was initially. <br /><br />This year, more than ever, I came to appreciate my name saint, St. Genevieve. It had to to with my recovery from PTSD and medieval depictions portraying her with an angel, chasing away a demon with a candle. This held significant importance&nbsp;for&nbsp;me, because my relationship with Jesus as His disciple, bride or friend, centered around Christ the Light of the World. In fact, this was the religious title I took when I was allowed to make my first vows as a nun. Sr. Kateri Marie of Christ the Light. Christmas was my favorite holiday, but Easter meant so much more to me (as it properly should). The rituals of Easter vigil were the highlight of my year, every year - except Easter 2003...but I won't discuss those details now. On St. Genevieve's feast day, January 3, I spent that particular day more than ever considering my vocation, and strongly wishing I still had that Agnus Dei I entered the convent with. It means more to me than ever before, and though I know I gave it as a gift to someone who needed it, I wished I still had it. Fortunately, I was able to obtain another within a few days of her feast this year. <br /><br />Then I began to think of all my other special patron saints. St. Jude, who has been as reliable as the Blessed Virgin Mary in answering my prayers, I entrusted my technical college training success to with Our Lady of Grace. St. Dymphna, patron of my sanity; St. Philomena, patron of purity and children of Mary; St. Anthony of Padua, St. Rocce,&nbsp;Bl. JP II, St. Raphael the archangel, Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal,&nbsp;and St. Juan Diego had joined my personal treasury of saints with St. Joseph, St. Therese, my Guardian Angel, Our Lady of Guadalupe,&nbsp;St. Michael, the Holy Infant Jesus of Prague, and Rose Prince of the Carrier Nation since I returned from the convent. I never knew that I had so many friends. But after my experience in the convent with St. Kateri, I have learned an important lesson: whether they reach out a hand in friendship and patronage first, or you turn to them in your hour of need, never neglect them. More importantly, don't take them for granted. Remember to thank God for sending them into your life, as&nbsp;He does every person you meet.&nbsp;As for&nbsp;our heavenly brothers and sister in Christ, thank them constantly for their presence and support, even if you don't always feel it. Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-15233258646217246152012-11-27T17:27:00.003-08:002012-11-27T19:27:26.480-08:00It's a "God Thing"Years of rhetoric and every piece of advice that could be shared was given me when I came home from the convent, a broken, barely living human being. I buried myself in school, trying to get through the pain I could not avoid and burying the pain I could in being active in university classes and the WCWA. Suicidal&nbsp;thoughts and wishes&nbsp;gripped me in my weakest moments as an unholy demon tried to take possession of me.&nbsp; It has been a long, very hard, and sometimes horrible journey of recovery, these past seven years. I couldn't be what I thought I&nbsp;could have been&nbsp;- what I did want to be...and after university when the recession hit, I didn't have anything to bury myself in. No schoolwork, no history papers, not even the WCWA after a visit to Gettysburg so traumatized me and then my asthma flared up something awful that I couldn't be around black gun powder smoke.&nbsp; There was no more hiding.&nbsp; I had come home noticeably thin - what doctors and experts say would be my 'ideal weight' - but that weight was a result of weight loss through extreme emotional, mental, and psychological duress. I pretty much maintained a size 8-10 for my 5'2" large bone frame - until university finished, and my goal to work in the National Park Service as an Historical Interpreter was lost in the recession.&nbsp; All I could get was sporadic seasonal and part-time jobs no matter how hard I tried. And over the course of 4 years struggling with major depression, PTSD, and Panic Disorder, having no self-confidence and no sure goal of 'where I wanted to be in five years,' I went from a size 10 to 12 to 14 to 16....to size 22W. Yeah, it runs in the family, but genes were not the problem.&nbsp; <br /><br />America has an obesity problem, but think about this the next time you see one of us obese women: there is more than meets the eye as to why we are in the shape we are. And until this past holiday weekend of Thanksgiving, nothing was going to change because I didn't care anymore. If I had clothes that fit and a warm home and reassured God was taking care of me, it didn't matter how fat I was, even if I was pre-diabetic and my physical health continued to deteriorate.&nbsp; But something did happen to change all of that - something that can only be described as a "God thing." A "God thing" is a miraculous light-bulb that comes on when there is inadequate 'electrical wiring' to have a light bulb there in the first place.&nbsp; During the weekend, I saw an online special - a snippet from a talk show on health called "Your Unhappiest Age." An intriguing title, I clicked on it to watch what the 'experts' had to say.&nbsp; Apparently due to kids, family commitments, work obligations, etc., a poll taken showed that women reported their unhappiest age at 37 and men at 42.&nbsp; (And I'm only 30.)&nbsp; Then the psychologist went on and said the one thing that broke through the fog that has clouded my process of thinking all these years. She said that exercise was just as effective as anti-depressants in treating depression.&nbsp; Yes, I had known I needed to increase the exercise in my weekly and daily routine to help lose weight, manage my cholesterol and blood sugar...but until she said it, I was not the person to listen to just any one's 2-cents worth on health perspectives. But God's Hand reached down and created a light in the darkness I was in, a darkness no one else had been able to penetrate.&nbsp; Why not be happy for me? Why continue to be unhappy for the misery caused by the convent, the life I lead after leaving the convent&nbsp;(which was a choice I didn't want to make, but saw no other alternative to saving what was left of me)? Why not be happy for my own sake? Not someone else's - not happy for someone else's being. If I was to be healthy, I had to work on being happy.&nbsp; I never looked at it like that before. Why not be happy for happiness' sake because when God created everything, He created it beautiful and good?<br /><br />Sound a bit off, a bit self-centered? Am I off on a tangent, perhaps headed into a wrong direction of thought? For a long time, I believed I could never be happy if I wasn't healthy. Truth was, I wasn't healthy because I was unhappy. I made up my mind - I was going to work on it. Yes, 3 - 4 days later, life is still chaotic with two weeks of the 2nd quarter left to go for my Medical Receptionist certification. But courage is not a loud roar - well, not always. It is that voice at the end of the day, when all is said and done, saying with firm belief:&nbsp;"I will try again tomorrow." So what if out of the past few days when I have decided to incorporate using my exercise bike while praying my rosary I have only been able to do it once for 15 minutes? It's a start! And I am not going to give up. For every breath I breath, may I enjoy it because God gave it to me because He loves me.&nbsp; When I lose weight, for every pound may God be praised, for I am taking care of that which He entrusted to me to care for; and should I reach my goal of finally fitting back into a size 8/10 or just being able to wear beautiful dresses like those traditional Chinese wrap dresses or a ballgown for the WCWA ball, let the glory go to Him for the beauty He gave me to share with the world. A symbol of His love for all to see who wish to see it.&nbsp; Let laughter come back into my life everyday, and with every laugh a smile to share with those around me - not just a beautiful girl, but a woman of God.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-81930978552987777802012-09-27T22:43:00.002-07:002012-09-27T22:43:23.338-07:00Sunday's Life Changing MomentWell, the first week of classes at BTC didn't go well, and I had this question hanging in front of me that if it wasn't working out, maybe it's God trying to tell me I'm doing the wrong thing and not the devil preventing me from reaching a goal.&nbsp; All the week before classes I kept getting the idea I was supposed to be in the class I switched to the Monday after my epiphany.&nbsp; Anyway, we celebrated my sister's birthday at her house over the weekend, and while using her internet access, saw she left the Medjugorje.com page open.&nbsp; I had so many doubts nagging me about my classes, my program of study...I decided to enter an online prayer petition (a special little service they've set up on there - you really should check it out).&nbsp; They receive the petition, print it out and with all the other petitions pray over them as a community, then have them present at the monthly apparition of Our Lady.&nbsp; Well, they must have been praying right when I had the epiphany.&nbsp; I suddenly lit up like I was struck by lightning and said "I should be a radiologist!"&nbsp; Something I've avoided for quite a while in confronting - fears reasonable and unreasonable have kept me from pursuing that career and tech training.&nbsp; I was registered in the Medical Receptionist program, but the official switch to Radiology Technian will be in October because of Admissions/Financial Aid paperwork/red tape.&nbsp; So, suddenly shedding the fear of facing intense study, the new technology to deal with, the financial debt, etc. I suddenly embraced the calling confronting me without worry of anything.&nbsp; I can finally get a job that has local accessibility and security to be close to my family and take care of myself economically.&nbsp; Our Lady of Medjugorje has been very present in my life lately, and with the easy switch into the right classes (I have 4 pre-requisite classes before I can start the program), things are just falling into place.&nbsp; And October is the Month of the Rosary.&nbsp; I'm quite looking forward to it.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-34578863123517048902012-09-01T21:41:00.000-07:002012-09-01T21:41:50.028-07:00Power of the RosaryMany people underestimate the power of the rosary, even the mere presence of one.&nbsp; By it's very existence, it tests the mettle men and women are made of.&nbsp; Scott Hahn related in his youth how when his grandmother, a devout Catholic, died, that his family gave him all her religious belongings.&nbsp; Not that he was Catholic - he was non-denominational Christian with an anti-Catholic slant.&nbsp; He didn't hate the Church - he hated what he thought it was.&nbsp; Among her possessions he inherited was her rosary, which she prayed fervently as he well recalled.&nbsp; He picked up what he believed to be a 'symbol of misguided devotion,' and pulled it apart into pieces, thinking that his grandmother was 'free of such superstitious chains that bound her on earth.'&nbsp; Years later when he converted, he yearned for that rosary.&nbsp; A vibrant memory of his grandmother's faith, the true faith he had finally found.<br /><br />I have to say that many who know me know of my annual collection of rosaries for rosary mission charities.&nbsp; Some come in the mail, others as gifts...many people do not see the point of having more than one rosary.&nbsp; It is, for all intense purposes, a tool of prayer.&nbsp; This is very evident in the 'Ladder Rosary.'&nbsp; It relates back to the beginning of mendicant orders, where one saint had a dream of two ladders to heaven: one steep one leading straight up to Jesus, but his brothers kept falling off the ladder; the other was a ladder to Mary, Jesus' mother.&nbsp; Jesus said to the saint in that dream: "Tell your brethren to&nbsp;climb to heaven&nbsp;by means of the ladder to my Mother."&nbsp; It was more at a gradual angle for easier climbing.&nbsp; All right, if you are set on having only one rosary, fine.&nbsp; But let me relate to you some experiences I have had that will make you think twice.<br /><br />Until recently, I felt guilty of having all these 'extra' rosaries around me because I knew somewhere someone could be using it to pray on and here I just had it lying about for convenience.&nbsp; A rosary in the car, a rosary in my purse, a rosary on the wall, a couple of gifted rosaries I felt I could not give away because they were gifts.&nbsp; I took a hard look to see what I 'needed' as far as rosaries go.&nbsp; The wall one would stay - it hangs by my bedroom door.&nbsp; It is special not only because I made it, and made it out of luminescent beads, but the crucifix is a large pectoral style St. Benedict crucifix for protection.&nbsp; I kept the first rosary (encased in a glass heart-shaped jewelry dish) that I felt Mother Mary gave me - the first rosary I sincerely and seriously prayed with while recovering from PTSD from the convent.&nbsp; I kept the one in the car for emergencies and as a spare in case my traveling companion (whoever that might be) might want to pray the rosary while we drove to town, 45 minutes from our house in the county.&nbsp; (And I have mastered the art of praying the rosary in hand while driving safely&nbsp;- it's all a matter of technique.)&nbsp; And in memory of Our Lady's miraculous apparition and blessing at Medjugore, I keep one rosary hanging from the curtain rod above my window, facing out as a protectorant against evil.&nbsp; And of course, the rosary I have to pray with does change frequently.&nbsp; As I said, I am quick to give in generosity or charity.&nbsp; I had a splendid pink crystal rosary my uncle got for me in Rome, blessed by the Pope and touched to the tomb of Bl. Pope John Paul II.&nbsp; I loaned it to a friend of a friend who has aggressive malignant breast cancer and is 34 weeks pregnant.&nbsp; I have come to terms that I may never get that rosary back and I have occasional pangs of regret - but the greater good must come first.&nbsp; I gave it to her to comfort her.<br /><br />But returning to that luminous rosary in the window, the cheap plastic string ones you can get for 99 cents - there's a good story behind that.&nbsp; When I was a young nun, one of the visionaries from Medjugore was touring San Diego and giving talks on the apparitions.&nbsp; It so happened to be arranged that one of his talks took place in our chapel, open to the sisters on one side and the public on the other.&nbsp; At the end of the talk he gave, we met with him in the vestibule, and he gave us rosaries blessed by the Mother of God in a recent apparition.&nbsp; Yes, it was the common plastic ones most people shrug off as cheap, replaceable 'things,' but to me it was gold.&nbsp; I never had a present like it before or since.&nbsp; I was in complete awe that Our Lady would send me a rosary with her personal blessing.&nbsp; I used that rosary - I prayed with it until the cord frayed and broke and even then I kept it close.&nbsp; At first I wrapped it around my metal bed frame, and then I wrapped it on the latch of the window of my cell (room).&nbsp; That was while I was in the novitiate.&nbsp; Time came for me to take my first vows eventually, and I was moved into the professed sisters section of the convent.&nbsp; I left the rosary in my old cell.&nbsp; The reason being, I wanted whoever had that cell to be protected.&nbsp; You see, the convent was a section of the older part of the retirement home, locked off by heavy fire doors.&nbsp; It was 3 stories tall and had a basement.&nbsp; The novitiate was on the 3rd floor, professed sisters on the second, and on the first was the kitchen, refectory, offices, infirmary cells, and adjacent chapel.&nbsp; <br /><br />The novitiate floor used to be divided in half - one corridor for candidates and postulants and one corridor for the novices, keeping us segregated until my last six months of postulancy.&nbsp; It was decided that since the mistress of novices was put in charge of postulants and candidates as well, that the dividing wall would be knocked down, and so it was.&nbsp; It became in general the formation floor of the convent.&nbsp; But something strange happened after the wall came down.&nbsp; At different times, all of us at one time or other heard mysterious footsteps at night, pacing the hall - sometimes even coming into the rooms at night...but you could see no one.&nbsp; Then things got worse.&nbsp; Unnerving as it was to see inexplicable figures of a nun in habit on occasion, we somehow acquired a poltergeist.&nbsp; Two of us would be in one room, and hear a great commotion so loud we knew it came from the adjacent room, and despite the rules of privacy we went to investigate.&nbsp; Most of the time, nothing would be found to be disturb.&nbsp; Other times, things like medicine bottles from the bathroom cabinets would fly out of a closed cabinet with considerable force.&nbsp; And there were the demons.&nbsp; We had one to three which eventually were exorcised - one by proper rite with a priest, one with the leaving of a postulant, and the other one - that one I exorcised myself, with the help of Mother Mary's rosary from Medjugore.&nbsp; <br /><br />I was a professed sister and these&nbsp;disturbances still persisted, and it came time for the new Mother General of the Order to make her visit to the convent as required by the Rules.&nbsp; Since the second floor was full and almost overflowing, it was decided to host our new Mother General in the third floor rooms, as well as her Senior Advisor.&nbsp; The room chosen for Mother was my old room.&nbsp; We not only knocked ourselves out cleaning the entire convent Marine-style, but I went around with permission (and this was after the official exorcism) with blessed salt and taped it to the door frames, cabinets, etc.&nbsp; When I got to my old room, by my sixth sense unquestionably present was the last demon who had evaded all attempts to cast him out.&nbsp; Caught between myself with blessed salt as I stood in the doorway and the window which still had my Medjugore rosary wrapped on the inside lock, I was suddenly impressed with the feeling that it was in immense terror because it was cornered and could not flee.&nbsp; I had chased that thing all over the third floor - nothing was going to hurt Mother General as long as I could do something about it.&nbsp; Between the rosary and the salt, it had no where to go.&nbsp; I could not see it visibly but no one can deny the powerful evil essence present.&nbsp; But it was weak, it was vulnerable.&nbsp; I commanded it's attention in Biblical terms aloud: "By the power of Jesus, Son of God and God Almighty, by His name I command you to leave!&nbsp; And by Blessed Mary ever Virgin, Mother of God, I command you to never come back!"&nbsp; My body felt as if prepared for a wrestling match.&nbsp; By those words, the demon was cast out and never returned.&nbsp; And I was very, very amazed at power God granted me to do such a feat.&nbsp; Had it been me and the salt, I think it would have found somewhere to hide.&nbsp; But when cornered by the powerful presence of Mary's rosary and her devout daughter, it stood no chance to remain present.&nbsp; And that is why, my brothers and sisters, for all the crosses, statues, crucifixes, and medals, I prefer to keep a rosary in the window, be it of my car or my room.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-62446948699721031382012-08-25T19:59:00.000-07:002012-08-25T19:59:30.322-07:00I Have SurvivedWell, first I must say that I am sorry it's taken me so long to post.&nbsp; There are several things I wish to talk about, including the absolute degenerate status of religious orders...sorry - hard to write with a chip on my shoulder.&nbsp; I went to confession today, and an elderly Irish priest was substituting in place of our recently new replacement at Sacred Heart.&nbsp; I had mention that I was an ex-Carmelite nun, and he asked me (after telling me he'd been a priest for almost 70 years) to pray for a friend of his.&nbsp; She was a Carmelite nun who had to leave her convent because of the same fractious spirit afflicting her former community.&nbsp; Although she had applied to 6 or 7 convents, they all made their excuses to not accept her.&nbsp; Now there is nothing wrong with her, but unfortunately age discrimination is a plague in the religious orders of the Catholic Church.&nbsp; I know that first hand from when I joined the convent I was formerly in, of the way the nuns in administration and interior ranks used to comment about not giving God "leftovers."&nbsp; Yes, you read that right.&nbsp; Anyone over the age of 35 has to have a martyr's excuse as to why they didn't try to join earlier in life, such as caring for their crippled mother until she died or something.&nbsp; And after 40 - well, you'd better want it above all else and give twice of what you've got to even get considered.&nbsp;&nbsp;I know that I am ineligible (because of my PTSD/major depression/Panic Disorder caused from the convent I was in)&nbsp;though I still feel the call to serve, but it is absolutely <em>sickening</em>,&nbsp;that in her hour of need, a servant of the Church and bride of Christ Himself is cast aside because of 50 years already spent in service and could take no more of the factioning and digressive politics that run rampant in many US convents.&nbsp; <br />I am still in contact with one nun from my former community, a friend who entered after I did and was there firsthand in all I/we went through and still remained...sometimes I wish she'd forget me, other times I wonder if she or any of the others care at all about me.&nbsp; I did help a lot to reform that convent, but the price was that of my health, mental health mostly.&nbsp; Although I pray to St. Dymphna to be cured to serve again, I keep having panic attacks and meltdowns....obviously it's not meant to be.<br />God graced me, though, in a spiritual way I haven't experienced since I was in the convent.&nbsp; It was&nbsp;on the Feast of the Assumption.&nbsp; God only knows why and by how, but a complete change took place.&nbsp; Not only had I perfect contrition for my sins, a&nbsp;deep love for God and all His creation, and a wonderfully grateful spirit&nbsp;for all I had been given (good&nbsp;and ill), the ardor of my soul was revived and I felt as I had before in the convent.&nbsp; I was&nbsp;a living&nbsp;spirit &amp; soul of Love itself - a&nbsp;heavenly chosen flower,&nbsp;gathered at&nbsp;the altar on Mary's feast of her Assumption into Heaven; all living, breathing, present for the sole glory of God.&nbsp; It was wonderful.&nbsp; And I was so grateful to God and thankful to Mary.&nbsp; And somehow the thought prevailed upon me, quietly though persistent, that it was partly due to the prayers of that good friend of mine that I had left behind in the convent that all this happened.&nbsp; What I'm supposed to make of it...I know there are many different ways to look at it and as many explanations for it but I don't much care for how's or why's anymore.&nbsp; I'm just grateful it happened, and I hope it will happen again.&nbsp; As the splendor in the firmament (or plainly put, the stars in the night sky) gave me hope of great proportion in my darkest hour as a teen, and thoughts of going to the moon, of being an astronaut, carried me through the roughest patches of PTSD recovery when I left the convent, I'll hold just as dear the dahlias I treasure that bloom this time of year for God cares for them though they toil not... I'm reassured all the more that He does care for me, and for every human being.&nbsp; God bless you all.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-13686350051305029602012-07-04T11:45:00.000-07:002012-07-04T11:45:37.763-07:00Dedicated To The Ones I Love....Why does the pussy willow bleed<br />where the bark has been skinned<br />but the leaves remain green?<br /><br />Happy 4th of July, everyone.<br /><br />Last night I got to thinking about my family - my greatest earthly blessing aside from freedom and liberty.&nbsp; I don't speak much of my brother and sister, but I thought I'd would do so now.&nbsp; My dear, sweet sister Trish, whose birthday is only 18 months later than mine, is an exceptional woman.&nbsp; A fantastic mother who has a wonderful talent at being a mother; an adoring wife, a loving sister, a devoted daughter...&nbsp; Of all the pleasant people in the world, one of them that you should meet is my sister, Trish.&nbsp; Thoroughly likable and lovable by all, even by people from different worlds, you could say.&nbsp; A bit of frustration for me personally was understanding her decorative style, especially after she got married, had the three kids....she's a minimalist at heart, but pity her relatives aren't.&nbsp; She keeps saying she has 'way too much stuff already' and not to get her or the kids non-practical things.&nbsp; She's got a good head on her shoulders and a big heart...although, she says that could stand to be extended by "two more feet" :)&nbsp; A very thorough parent - nothing is given or used by the kids until it has been extensively researched.&nbsp; She's more disciplined than I am - who would have expected that?!&nbsp; We grew up like Oscar and Felix - I was the tidy, organized one.&nbsp; But with all the health set backs in childhood, she grew into a strong woman.&nbsp; She's definitely the 'poster girl' for JRA: what doesn't kill you can make you stronger as long as you're willing to not let it cripple you.<br /><br />To my brother, who started out as early in life in politics as I did the convent - he's one of a kind!&nbsp; Ask most people who've met him, and the word that pops to mind is sarcastic.&nbsp; It is both a helpful asset and an a character flaw.&nbsp; He's the realist.&nbsp; Called a pessimist and an optimist, he sees the glass as containing 5/7ths of its capacity.&nbsp; It's just the way things are.&nbsp; We're a lot alike, Will and I, but he's gotten tired of me&nbsp;saying "I know!" to everything he talks about.&nbsp; And then again, we are different - he's a strategist (I retired), politics and religion are not just his bread and butter but his heart and soul.&nbsp; Try talking to me about politics and religion in depth and I just tune out.&nbsp; He's a fair-minded person who will always hear your side even if he doesn't agree with you.&nbsp; He loves debate. Real debate, not arguing.&nbsp; He loves his nephews dearly and his new little niece, Ellie.&nbsp; He'd make a wonderful father.&nbsp; I always look at him at least once when he's home for the weekend and wonder who he'll marry.&nbsp; My bet is on a Russian or Japanese, but when it comes to the odds, I've no money to gamble.&nbsp; Where I gave up for my sanity's sake, he kept to the road in his life on political campaigns because no matter what, that's what he wants to do in life.&nbsp; There are times when he comes home for a break and crashes that I wonder if it would be feasible for him to get an MA and become a political professor.&nbsp; But he's a doer.&nbsp; He does a lot of background work, but you'll see him from time to time with some candidate on the news.&nbsp; Even when I was a nun, the sisters kept saying "Someday that kid will be president and I'm going to vote for him!"&nbsp; His strength of character enables him to be the ideal political advisor&nbsp;in every way.<br /><br />Well, that leaves mom and dad, but I think I'll stop for now and see what they respond with to what I've written.&nbsp; Be safe, everyone!&nbsp; Fireworks are NOT toys - they are dangerous.&nbsp; And don't booze up 'til you're drunk!&nbsp; Every 48 seconds, some drunk person causes another person to end up using a handicapped parking space.Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-84432025000463530852012-06-28T14:55:00.001-07:002012-06-28T19:28:21.527-07:00I Have Come to a DecisionA day ago, I went clothes shopping with my mom, as she needed to return some clothes she got for her birthday for a smaller size.&nbsp; I was very happy that she dropped 2 sizes.&nbsp; Inside my head, I was scolding myself for how much weight I'd gained since last year.&nbsp; Well, the past four years but last year was when I gained my obesity 'stature.' When I came home in 2005, I was a size 8 and stayed medium sized through the end of my university studies in 2008.&nbsp; Now, I weigh just under 225 lbs. at a height of 5'3".&nbsp; When I was with mom at the store, I tried on some dresses and blouses, only to be disgusted by my reflection in the changing room mirror, that my stomach was swelling past my DD breasts.&nbsp; When I get sick with some abdominal problem (IBS or flu virus), I eat what tastes good to me and won't make me gag and feel more ill.&nbsp; In other words, ice cream, pudding, etc.&nbsp; Now I have had a sit down 'come-to-Jesus' talk with my doctor in March or April that I was teetering on the edge of pre-diabetes.&nbsp; Well, I got right on the nutritionist's plan of modifying my diet and exercising 3-5 days a week.&nbsp; But, despite my efforts of not trying to get sick by taking large doses of Vitamin C, I got sick the beginning of June, and despite my little weight loss victory by the end of May, I gained it all back because I gave up dieting and regular exercise.&nbsp; My stair-stepper and my exercise bike remain untouched, and I'm just trying to get the cravings under control since I ate when I could and wanted to.&nbsp; That same day we went shopping, we stopped at Shari's for lunch, and a lady more obese than myself at the table behind us aspirated her drink.&nbsp; I sat praying for her while mom and a few other customers tried to get her to remain calm because she thought she was choking and 911 dispatch wasn't there yet.&nbsp; She was choking at first, but God be praised, the obstruction dislodged.&nbsp; I, a former CNA, looked on in fear - I could do the Heimlich maneuver, but she was way, way too big for me to get my arms around her.&nbsp; She was in her early 50s, I think, and as I prayed for God to spare her because in His eyes she was still young with many things to do with her life, I thought to myself "I have got to change; otherwise, I'll end up like her."&nbsp; Over the years, I have found that when a problem arises, it is best to just deal with the situation instead of engaging in a barrage of finger-pointing arguments about who or what started the issue.&nbsp; I was not happy that day, despite mom's efforts to try and cheer me up.&nbsp; She saw me crying in the store when I tried on the clothes.&nbsp; Not that we could afford them but because of what I let myself look like - a physical wreck.&nbsp; Later, when we were home, she told me of a lady's weight loss story on one of her favorite websites, about how every time she fell down on the road to weight loss, she turned to God and prayed to get back up and keep going - to not give up.&nbsp; From the time mom had told me that, I have felt more assured and confident to face my weight loss struggle.&nbsp; God has been whispering to me over and over the quote from Proverbs to "trust in the Lord with all your heart."&nbsp; For the first time in years, I feel content.&nbsp; I truly do.&nbsp; I am going to college for technical training, and by God's grace overcome my fear of taking out student loans for fear of debt.&nbsp; I no longer struggle daily with thoughts of suicide.&nbsp; That is a major milestone in my life.&nbsp; I try not to make a big deal of things, but if my family truly knew of how I felt - the significance of overcoming suicidal emotions, how much it means - I'd like to have a party to celebrate it.&nbsp; I'd even go for a surprise party, and I normally do not like surprises.&nbsp; But I am a very modest person, and content myself in thanking God for what He has done for me and for the family and friends He has provided me with, who support me so much.&nbsp; Yes, I could blame my hormones, my human weakness, and especially my fear to do things alone, like take walks or go swimming, but blame changes nothing and only hurts.&nbsp; So I will whisper back to God to help me get through this, because I do trust in Him....and at my very worst, at least I want to trust in Him.&nbsp; Praise the Lord, for He is good - His steadfast love endures forever!Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620629227364414045.post-62867473733858125862012-06-26T00:41:00.000-07:002012-06-26T00:41:09.431-07:00Missionary Hopes"And when you stop and think about it<br /> You won't believe it's true<br /> That all the love you've been giving<br /> Has all been meant for you."<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; -Moody Blue's "Question"<br /><br /><br />When I was about 12/13, I had a religious conversion - what Protestants call "being born again."&nbsp; I am a cradle Catholic, and have always been true to my faith.&nbsp; When God showed me His love for me and that there is nothing so bad that I experienced (being bullied, sexually harrassed at school) that He couldn't handle. Indeed, His love is greater than our sins, faults, and failings.&nbsp; That was one of two reasons I wanted to become a missionary - to give to others the hope and love God had given to me.<br /><br />The second reason with which&nbsp;I didn't come to terms of understanding until just recently, and only on reflecting with a spiritual group on FB was I was looking for love to heal all the past hurt.&nbsp; The loner I was at school - the outcast, the ridiculed, the harrassed; the thouroughly unwelcome existence I lived as a religious (nun)....the positive social experiences I had with my family and with the 26th NC of the WCWA...&nbsp; I finally realized that I had been looking for love all the time, more than wanting to share my beliefs with others.&nbsp; Every person has a unique story to tell about their relationship with God.&nbsp; This is mine.<br /><br />When Fr. John came to our parish for the summer in 1995, he spoke of the beauty of the his community parish, the place in Kenya that he came from, and it awoke something in my heart.&nbsp; I finally understood that God truly loved me, and that going to mass was more than a Sunday ritual.&nbsp; As much as I wanted to give, I had a subconcious ulterior motive in wanting to become a missionary.&nbsp; If these people were so wonderful and truly Christian, I wanted to be with them to experience the kind of love that Fr. John talked about when trying to reach out to us to support the missions.&nbsp; <br /><br />We'll, I've been full circle, to the extreme some might think: I entered a convent at 17, having decided that being a missionary was my calling, having even prepared myself as best I could spiritually since my converion.&nbsp; But the convent was worse than anyone could have imagined, and after five and a half years, I left - broken, bruised, bloody and beaten.&nbsp; It has taken 12 years to get my life back in order so that I can move on and away of what I landed in, leaving the nest so young.&nbsp; And until this year, 7 years since I left, my religious battles were difficult, but being persistent and trusting in God, I had a second "born-again" experience.&nbsp; <br /><br />It was all about realizing just what being human means, and truly understanding what God did in becoming human and dying for our sins.&nbsp; And now I sit here, typing the last pages to the chapter of my life that spanned 17 years.&nbsp; When I think of it all in retrospect, it's hard to believe what a mess we make of the gifts that God gave us.&nbsp; I could be a linguist, traveling the world...but I'm not.&nbsp; I could be a biochemist or pharmacist...but I'm not.&nbsp; God leads you to where He wants you to be, even though most of the time you are wondering 'what the heck is going on?'&nbsp; <br /><br />I always wanted to make a positive difference in other peoples' lives.&nbsp; I just wanted to help in whatever manner I could.&nbsp; Mother Teresa of Calcutta was right: charity begins at home.&nbsp; And like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, when the memories of the past are quite vivid in reflecting, I keep thinking: "There's no place like home.&nbsp; There's no place like home...."<br />Jenny Rebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13846161865222657606noreply@blogger.com0